Last week, my daughter came home from an over­night stay at Girl Scout camp with a runny nose. I chalked it up to al­lergies triggered by a night in the woods, but by the next night she was run­ning a fever.

The pediatrician reassured me it was just a virus and it would run its course in a few days. It did, but in the mean­time, she spent a couple of days on the couch watching the Disney Channel.

Like a typical kid, she bounced back, and every­thing was okay.

Everything was okay, that is, until my nose started running.

The first stage is denial. I other­wise felt fine. It’s just a runny nose! Nobody panic! It’s just a runny nose!

I texted my friend: “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Maybe it’s allergies,” she responded.

Yes, I thought. Allergies! Even though I’ve never been allergic to anything in my whole entire life! I’m sure it is allergies! Why not?

Once I realized my back muscles were getting sore from the constant nose blowing, I knew I had to get real. I skipped all of the other stages of grief and went straight to acceptance: The virus was likely ready to take over my body, leaving me weak, helpless, and, worst of all, unable to change the station on the TV from the Disney Channel, and I needed to be prepared.

Sudden illnesses are scary to me for two reasons.

Reason one: When you’re a myeloma patient, a virus can be very, very bad. Fortunately, I had just been to the doctor for a checkup, and I knew my white blood cell count was great. I’d also let the nurse practitioner know about my daughter’s virus, and I knew that the second I started running a fever or having any other troubling symptoms, I’d call the cancer center, and they’d help me out.

Reason two: I’m a mom. When Mom goes down with a virus, it’s entirely possible that the earth will stop turning and perhaps explode.

I rushed around, doing everything that needed to be done before The Virus got me. I went to the grocery store. I cleaned the guinea pig cage.

I gravely sat down with Husband and Child. “There’s a good chance I’m going to be going down with The Virus,” I said. “And if that happens, you two are on your own.”

I thought they’d be concerned. I thought they’d be afraid. I thought they’d picture themselves starving, wear­ing dirty, ragged, un-ironed clothing, unable to find household objects.

“Only Mom knows where the Scotch tape is!” they’d scream.

“Wait,” said Child. “Does this mean we can get takeout?

“Yes!” said Husband. “We’ll get takeout!”

“Can we get … chocolate cake?” asked Child, the excitement building.

“We’ll get chocolate cake,” said Husband. “And we will watch Star Wars.”

I was so moved by their concern.

The next morning, I woke up feeling completely fine. I was a tiny bit sniffly, but I was otherwise fine. The Virus didn’t get me! Triumph!

Husband and Child were actually disappointed that they didn’t get to have takeout. My sister told me I should make broccoli and lima beans for dinner, and I did. I totally did.

But the chocolate-cake-and-Star-Wars incident taught me that I should calm down a little. Had I been un­avail­able for a day or two, my family would have been fine. They would have been full of chocolate, but they otherwise would have been fine.

I’ve been so fortunate that myeloma has never really sidelined me. I’ve been able to be an active mom throughout most of my treatment. The thought of being sick, hospitalized, and unable to do the usual “mom stuff” for weeks or months at a time is scary to me. My hat goes off to all of the myeloma moms out there who have had to do that. It’s hard for me to think about.

I know, though, that if that time comes, that everything will somehow end up being okay. I know Husband and Child will take their turn taking care of me, and I’m pretty sure they’ll share some of the chocolate cake.